


looking, but not seeing

by RonnieMinor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Kidnapping, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Pre-Relationship, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:56:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieMinor/pseuds/RonnieMinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s just one of the boys at school; just another face in the crowd who Lydia ignores (who she doesn’t even see) as she struts through the school. </p>
<p>That's all he is.</p>
<p>And then one day, it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking, but not seeing

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I have too many Isaac feels, and the idea of this ship intrigues me. Yup.
> 
> Spoilers for everything aired, as well as the trailer for 2x12. Obviously this isn't how S2 is going to end, but *creative liberties*

He’s just one of the boys at school; just another face in the crowd who Lydia ignores (who she doesn’t even see) as she struts through the school, the sound of her heels on the floor reminding everyone exactly who’s in charge here. She rules her empire with an iron fist in a velvet glove, only resorting to her less pleasant persuasive methods when flattery and subtle threats aren’t doing the trick – and she has no time for anyone who isn’t pretty and smart and popular. It’s not kind and it’s not good for a lot of people’s self-esteem, but Lydia is well aware that success doesn’t come easily, so she doesn’t mind making a few enemies. 

She starts to rethink that perspective when things in Beacon Hills start to get a little… _weird_. For starters, people aren’t exactly nice to her when she comes back from her small foray into the world of naturism, regardless of the fact that she remembers none of it. Allison is good to her, but that’s probably because Allison is like Snow White incarnate – or perhaps Mulan, considering her skill with weapons. The point is that Allison is nice to everyone. The day she isn’t is the day Lydia will start to worry. 

It gets worse, what with the meltdown in the middle of economics. Lydia starts to feel like maybe her empire isn’t _hers_ anymore – like this world she so carefully created is slipping between her fingers like grains of sand. She starts to realise that maybe cruelty and elitism aren’t the best ways to make a name for yourself, especially not if they’re not standards you can uphold yourself. 

She doesn’t feel any better when the ‘study group’ that Allison, Stiles and Jackson drag her off to winds up being something distinctly _not_ like a study group. First there’s Stiles acting even more like a hyperactive child than normal, followed by Jackson being super intense and kind of creepy about the key to his house and some video that she’s never heard about. She’s spent most of the day feeling vulnerable, Jackson is just too much on top of everything else. She shouldn’t have broken down and she shouldn’t have kissed him, but he’s always been able to get to her like nobody else. 

Of course, the strangeness doesn’t let up, because apparently this is her life these days. She hears a noise downstairs, and thinks about what Stiles said earlier – about break-ins and murders. Despite herself, she’s scared. She still goes to check what’s going on, and is _not_ reassured by Allison at all, which is why she winds up in Scott McCall’s bathroom, crying as she calls the police. 

It’s not until she leaves the bathroom and goes downstairs to find Stiles, Scott and Allison facing off against _Derek Hale_ that she notices Isaac. He’s lying on the floor next to Erica Reyes (who’s turned into some kind of low-rent hooker overnight or something), and he looks like he’s unconscious. It makes her frown, because it seems like maybe _he_ was the one causing the disturbance downstairs, and that seems strange. Admittedly, not quite as strange as the fact that he seems to part of whatever weird little group Derek Hale has going on these days. 

Something tugs as her memory, and briefly, she thinks about how they’d worked together in Chemistry today, on the final part of the experiment. Allison had told her to stay away from Erica and Isaac, but Isaac had been pleasant enough, if a little odd. He’d even let her eat the crystal they made, which she appreciated. Gentlemen are hard to find these days. 

Later, after Allison has fobbed her off with some excuse that is (of _course_ ) related to Scott and once again reminded her that her love life is far from ideal, her mind drifts back to Isaac. And then it hits her, blindingly obvious now. He’s Isaac Lahey; son of Mr Lahey, who used to coach the swim team and who was murdered a few days ago. Thinking about it, she knows that Isaac was taken in for questioning by the Sheriff – in relation to the murder. Presumably, this has something to do with the whispered rumours about Mr Lahey being abusive – which would explain why Isaac was so often not at lacrosse practice. Lydia feels a slight pang when she realises that she didn’t remember _any_ of this in Chemistry, but reassures herself that she’s allowed to be a bit forgetful these days. It’s not like she hasn’t had problems of her own to deal with, and Isaac Lahey is (for the most part) just one of the hundreds of boys at school; just another face in the crowd. 

Lydia forgets all of this when she has another run-in with the weird boy who she met outside the counsellor’s office. It bothers her that he’s in her backyard; that he knows where she lives. It bothers her even more that he tries to kiss her, but for some reason she’s a lot nicer to him than she means to be. She’d fully intended to knee him in the balls and call the police. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t. 

Hours later, Lydia wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and shaking, her nightmare fading fast – leaving behind nothing but a lingering feeling of pure terror. Unable to go back to sleep, she stares up at the ceiling and lets her mind wander. For some reason, her memory throws up Isaac Lahey asking her out in freshman year. She doesn’t know _why_ she remembers him – she’s rejected a lot of guys since then, some of them far more memorable – but she does. She hadn’t been kind to him (although relatively, she hadn’t been unkind either) and now, she feels the same pang of discomfort that she felt earlier. It doesn’t go away. 

The next couple of weeks turn into some long kind of waking nightmare that blurs and twists before her eyes. She’s herself (mostly) but also not, like sometimes she’s watching _herself_ , or looking out of her eyes through warped glass. Being in a constant state of fear wears her down and makes her feel strangely disconnected from reality. And bad things are still happening in Beacon Hills. 

It’s a terrible, horrible shock when Jackson gets hurt at the lacrosse game. They manage to get his heart started again, but he’s bleeding badly and there’s some kind of toxin in his bloodstream that seems to be keeping him paralysed. Lydia would have stayed at the hospital all night if it weren’t for the fact that Scott comes and tells her that Stiles is missing; a fact that she somehow failed to notice earlier, even though the Sheriff was apparently shouting loud enough for half the town to hear. And although she wants to be there when Jackson wakes up, she does care about Stiles, and if Scott thinks she can help, she will. 

She ends up in some warehouse in the old industrial sector of town, watching in horror as Erica Reyes and Boyd (who only ever goes by his last name) turn into monsters under the influence of torture. Half a hundred nights entrapped by Peter Hale rush to the forefront of her mind and she knows the answer to her own question: _werewolves_. 

She thinks the worst bit is when Stiles is brought in, bruised and battered, bleeding sluggishly from a nose that looks broken. She’s proven wrong by watching _Allison_ throw punch after punch into Stiles’ stomach, and then move on to dipping a knife in something that she assumes is wolfsbane extract, and slashing a myriad of cuts across Erica and Boyd’s skin. The screaming is loud, the smell of blood so heavy in the air that she can almost taste it in her mouth, metallic and tangy. 

Derek Hale comes out of nowhere, with the man from her nightmares at his side, fully healed and every bit as terrifying as she remembers. But Isaac Lahey is there too, and she feels a strange satisfaction that she was right about his involvement with Derek. She just likes being right, ok? 

There’s a lot of fighting after that. She feels she does her part by freeing Erica and Boyd from their restraints, and by dragging Stiles out of harm’s reach. She can’t help the way she’s drawn back to the battle though – even though she’s trying to block it all out (the sounds, the smells) something pulls her back. Some strange combination of a death wish and curiosity. 

A shaky hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but it’s only Stiles. He tells her what she has to do, and although she wants to be incredulous and laugh it off, his eyes (one swollen shut, the other brilliantly red) are serious. So she watches the fighting; looks on with horror as Principal Argent arrives with a _broadsword_ and the kanima at his side. _Jackson_ , she reminds herself. 

She doesn’t mean to get so close, but the next thing she knows there’s an arrow headed her way and the only thing between her and certain death is a whole lot of air. Except then there’s a body in front of her, and Isaac Lahey has an arrow coming out of his shoulder, just where it joins his neck. She watches in shock as he snaps the shaft and snatches the next two arrows that come their way out of the air with a growl. 

His eyes are golden when he turns to her, his face as horribly deformed as the other werewolves’ faces are. ‘Stay out of the way’, he growls. Then he’s running back into the fray and she can’t help hoping that he’s going to be ok. 

It’s the kanima heading towards him that startles her into action. Above the noise of it all, she screams Jackson’s name – his _real_ name – her voice shrill and full of fear. His claws are inches from Isaac’s skin when he suddenly _shifts_ , and then he’s just Jackson again; just the boy she was in love with, once upon a time. 

The fight seems to shift after that, turning in favour of Derek and the wolves. Scott knocks Allison unconscious, then slumps to the ground and cradles her body to his chest, crying and pressing kisses into her hair. Lydia wonders what will happen to them when all this is over. 

Her attention turns to the remaining fighters. Peter tries to kill Principal Argent, but Derek stops him by slamming his head into the concrete hard enough to make Peter’s eyes roll back into his head. He seems to be out cold, although Lydia’s pretty sure that won’t last for long. Meanwhile, Derek turns on his heel, leaving Principal Argent on the floor. Then all of a sudden (and it _is_ sudden, considering that he’s old) Principal Argent rises up and sticks a knife in Derek’s back. Derek roars and whirls round, claws unsheathed and eyes blood red, clearly intending to rip Principal Argent’s head off. 

The sound of the gunshot is startling loud. The way Principal Argent slumps to the floor is almost funny – he looks just like a marionette that’s had its strings cut, and it’s just ridiculous somehow. The site of Allison’s dad with a gun in his hand, tears streaming down his face, is the only thing that keeps Lydia from breaking out into hysterical laughter. 

Instead, she makes her way over to Jackson, checking him for any external wounds. When she can’t find any except the ones from the end of the lacrosse game – or any pulse, for that matter – she just knows, somehow, that it’s over. She pulls him into her lap and he’s heavy in her arms as she holds him, tears dripping down her face. She cries silently, her pain so vicious that it’s stolen her ability to speak, leaving her with nothing but wordless grief, aching in her chest. 

She’s not sure how much time passes before someone tries to get her attention. She’s stopped crying by then, tears drying in salty tracks on her cheeks, but she still can’t seem to find any words. The only thing the can do is hold tighter to Jackson’s body when someone tries to pry her arms from him. He’s heavy and growing cold and her arms hurt, but she doesn’t want to let him go – doesn’t want to have to get up and try to face the world. 

A gentle hand on her shoulder is what makes her turn around. To her surprise, it’s Isaac. He’s bleeding – or has been bleeding – from a dozen different places, the arrow he took for her still buried in his shoulder. Her eyes widen at that, and somehow it’s the reminder that there’s an aftermath to attend to which makes her take the hand he offers, letting him pull her up into a standing position. He steadies her as her legs threaten to give way, cramped and stiff from sitting on the ground for so long. In turn, she reaches up and pushes the arrow out through his shoulder. He yelps in pain, his face flickering between forms, but when she holds up the remainder of the arrow for him to see, he nods his gratitude. She smiles uncertainly at him, and is relieved when he smiles back. 

Lydia doesn’t see any of them for three days after that, locking herself up in her room to cry and grieve and just _deal_ with all the emotions boiling up inside her. It’s all a lot to process, not least because now she knows for sure just what’s been going on. There’s no denying it now; no going back to the blissful ignorance of before. And when she’s finally cried all her tears and managed a full night’s sleep, she makes a list of things to do and sets about doing them. 

It’s familiar turf, this organised, controlled way of doing things. It makes her feel secure; a little less like the earth is crumbling underneath her feet with every step she takes. Admittedly, her ‘to-do’ list is a different from usual, but that’s not the point. The point is she has a plan and she’s going to go through with it. 

Her plan starts with Stiles, who is out of hospital and on the couch at home, curled up and watching crappy tv. She stays with him for the rest of the morning, and it feels good, just sitting there together and goofing around. Even having to nod when Stiles asks, ‘We’re never going to be more than friends, are we?’ doesn’t seem so bad in the grand scheme of things, because they’re both ok (for now) and that’s enough. Besides, Lydia thinks that maybe they can be good friends, given a little time. She thinks she’d like that. 

Next stop is Scott, who she can’t do much for except be marginally less insulting that normal. After that, it’s Allison. Chris Argent answers the door and thanks her for dropping by, but tells her firmly that Allison isn’t allowed visitors right now. Lydia hides her irritation behind a smile and makes a mental note to recruit a werewolf or two to help her get to Allison at a later date. For all that Allison seems to have gone full blown warrior princess with a vendetta, she’s still Lydia’s friend. She still deserves a shoulder to cry on and someone to help her through her grief about her mom. And when that’s all done… well _then_ they can talk about werewolves and not being crazy or shooting people with arrows. 

The final stop on her list is Derek Hale’s not-so-secret hiding place, which she enters with a sense of trepidation – the whole place looks like a serious tetanus risk, not to mention the fact that the foundations are probably unstable. Still, she heads on inside and wanders around for a minute or two before she comes to what is obviously the main living area. 

‘He’s not here’, a voice says, jolting her out of her little snooping session. She jerks around and catches sight of Isaac sitting on a ratty old couch, a textbook open on his knee. It sort of surprises her that he still does school work. She likes it though. 

‘I- I wasn’t looking for Derek’, she says, walking towards him. ‘I was looking for you, actually.’ 

Isaac raises an eyebrow at that. ‘Why?’ 

Lydia resists the urge to shrug and stops just a couple of steps away from him. ‘I wanted to say thank you, for… for saving my life. With the arrow, and everything.’ She _does_ shrug then, as she adds, ‘I guess I owe you now, although I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay you.’ 

Isaac smiles, just a little. ‘Probably not’, he says. ‘But I won’t hold it against you.’ And he seems to mean it. 

It confuses her, and she’s sure it shows on her face. She ends up smiling though. ‘Well, thank you. And I- I wanted to say I’m sorry. About freshman year. I mean, you probably don’t remember, but you -’ 

‘I asked you out and you turned me down. I remember.’ His smile turns wry. ‘You weren’t exactly kind.’ And Lydia winces at that, which hints at things that she’s not quite sure she’s ready to think about just yet. So she settles for making a face. 

‘I wasn’t kind to a lot of people back then. I’m thinking of turning over a leaf though’, she says. And before she makes Isaac feel like he has to say something nice in reply, she settles herself on the couch beside him, leaning over to take a look at the textbook. It’s for Economics. She grins. ‘Is this the homework for Finstock’s class?’ Isaac nods. 

‘Yeah, and it’s a pain in the ass’, he says. ‘I can’t wrap my head around Part2.’ 

Lydia thinks for a second, then says, ‘You know I’m a straight-A student. I could give you a hand with this – if you want, that is.’ 

Isaac looks at her and smiles softly. ‘I’d like that’, he says. 

And Lydia can’t help but smile right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Toying with the idea of writing a couple more pieces as follow-ons? Hmm.


End file.
